In 2013 Cristian Budu became the first Brazilian pianist to win the International Clara Haskil Competition. One byproduct of his victory is his first solo CD, and it adds up to an impressive debut release by a young pianist who already is a formidable piano personality.
Budu manages to bring a personal voice and strong vantage point to Chopin’s overplayed Op. 28 Preludes. He conveys both passionate sweep and clarity to the first prelude’s shifts of texture. At first No. 2 seems slow and straight-jacketed, yet the left hand’s carefully built-up dynamic plan intensifies the composer’s still-disturbing dissonances. No. 3’s lyrical line absorbs Budu’s fanciful rubatos well, although the fleet left-hand 16th-notes aren’t so evenly dispatched when compared alongside those of Kissin or Trifonov.
No. 5’s cross-rhythms are attractively sec, while Budu’s light, almost offhand way with the familiar No. 7 A major is the perfect antidote to performances that attempt to wring late-Beethovenian significance out of the music. Unlike Rafal Blechacz and Maurizio Pollini, who execute No. 9’s controversial dotted-eighth and 16th-note pattern to conform with the accompanying triplet, Budu plays what’s written, perhaps more defiantly than necessary, in contrast to Vladimir Ashkenazy’s discretion.
No. 10 is thrillingly audacious, featuring cascading runs that bolt from the starting gate, followed by an abrupt slamming of the brakes. The “Raindrop” Prelude No. 15 begins simply, even casually, giving no clue of the drama in the central minore section up ahead. Budu makes an unwritten yet oddly convincing crescendo across No. 16’s six opening chords, and while the pianist’s basic tempo undeniably honors Chopin’s Presto marking, he works overtime giving individual phrases character, and, as a consequence, the music’s Con Fuoco momentum dissipates. However, the same gambit pays spine-tingling dividends in No 18’s declamatory phrases, and, for once, No. 20’s big block chords sound both massive and mobile at the same time. Budu begins No. 22 softly, as if he’s sneaking into the music, only to quickly unleash the daggers, letting the left-hand lead.
I suspect that Budu is more instinctively attuned to Beethoven’s combative Classicism than to Chopin’s classically informed Romanticism. He imbues Beethoven’s Op. 33 Bagatelles with sharply delineated articulation and a sonority that conveys the kind of registral distinctions and timbral “ping” that you get from the finest and best-maintained fortepianos. This is particularly evident in No. 2’s detached phrases and frequent subito dynamics and No. 5’s spanking-clean arpeggios and runs. While Budu doesn’t quite sustain the near-breakneck tempo with which he begins No. 7, I defy you not to smile at his tonal control and genuine response to the piece’s caustic scherzando mood. In short, keep your eyes and ears on Cristian Budu; he’s definitely a piano talent to follow.
